


Catching Kestrels

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the middle The Landscape Framed by Kozue, as that episode spans over a week. A day in the life, as it were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching Kestrels

**Author's Note:**

> Written off the suggestion of sexartandpolitics.

She was late.

Striking the alarm on her bedside table like it was a sluggish fly only brought satisfaction the first few times, but it was the light streaming through the window that put an end to idle tossing and turning under the sheets. Kozue rubbed the sleep from her face, fingers coming back smudged with last night’s eyeliner, and cleaned them off on her nightgown without a second thought. It would wash, and the look of a ghostly hand traveling down her chest was appealing in the mirror. Some demon lover had come in the night, maybe, stealing one touch before all their courage bled away.

A shower and a change of clothes was easy enough, but the third bell rang when she was in the middle of rifling through her makeup, and with a growl, Kozue tossed half of it into her schoolbag and dashed out the door. The English teacher was notorious for failing anyone who missed her class more than once, and she had already skipped the first day to follow Miki around and learn his schedule. She dashed through the labyrinth of halls to the proper building, ignoring the pair of boys who tried to grab her attention with waves and smiles, only slowing to a halt outside the classroom door.

Swallowing her hammering pulse, Kozue ran a hand back through her hair, ensuring it looked tousled but not damp with sweat. Thus poised, she slunk into the room with loose shoulders, the sort of posture that put every professor’s teeth on edge. For all the writeups given out for ‘lax manners’ and ‘language unbefitting a young lady’, Kozue hadn’t been remanded to detention for more than a month, leading her to believe they were written for the sake of fluffing up an adult’s ego, a little power trip like sugar in one’s tea. The idea to make a scrapbook out of all of them had crossed her mind at one point, but there was only so much that could be done with pink and yellow paper. Maybe she could just fold them into one massive bouquet, each petal indignant and petty.

A seat by the window was open, so Kozue took it right as the teacher came in, looking over the students with bright, hawkish eyes. As soon as the fourth bell rang and she turned to the whiteboard to scrawl ‘Metamorphoses’ in cracking white chalk, Kozue pulled out her lipstick and turned to the glass. It wasn’t the best mirror in the world, but it was enough of a reflection to finish putting together her face, carmine lining her mouth and concealer banishing away dark bags. The teacher was still droning on when she finished, and Kozue sought some other form of entertainment, settling on the sharp edge of her pencil.

Ten thousand other students had defaced the desk before her, but there was an untouched space where one’s arm usually lay, and Kozue started to carve her mark. A butterfly there, an hourglass there, a dozen little objects formed to her whim before she erased them all in a fit of pique, irritated by the dark smudge across aged wood. Rather than draw them again, Kozue used her eraser to alter the cloud of graphite, tracing music notes into negative space.

“Ms. Kaoru?”

Biting her tongue, Kozue looked up, finding the teacher’s aged finger pointed in her direction. The polish on it was chipped and covered with white dust up to the first knuckle. What a mess. And she was supposed to be the disgrace.

“Yes, teacher?” She threw her voice upward, daring near shrill – and a fair imitation of the woman’s tone, no less.

Irritation flickered behind yellowing spectacles. “Could you please read what I’ve just put on the board?”

Her looping cursive was nigh-impossible to decipher, but Kozue squinted, leaning forward across her desk until the boy on her right blushed. “Leave behind those brave sayings wherein fine words conceal an evil heart…leave behind that urge for greatness when you cannot bear its burden. Leave behind those admonitions when you have not learnt to listen.”

“And what does that mean?” The teacher prompted after she went silent.

Kozue shrugged. “There’s no point in paying attention?”

An aggrieved sigh was the only reply, and Kozue smirked when the teacher returned to facing the board, erasing the quote with a dust-choked brush. Something else was put in its place, loops upon loops upon loops of chalk, and rather than bothering to read it, she plucked her notebook out of her bag. Her best pen was almost out of ink, but it would do for now. Kozue steadied her elbow against the desk, wanting every character to be perfect, fine black lines in the center of the page. The hardest part was the kanji at the end – some people had just ridiculous names – but she finished the note as the fifth bell rang, and blew on it gently to ensure the last strokes dried.

Miki’s locker was behind the building opposite hers, secluded and close to the music hall. After folding the paper with great care, she slid it in between the gap of the steel vents. It landed with a soft rustle, barely a whisper, and Kozue ducked out of sight as soon as the deed was done. His classes finished at the same time as hers, but he had to walk all the way across the grass to exchange his books. Now she just had to find her way to the piano room.

Other students had lessons here, she knew, but they had to suffer having the company of their classmates during practice, whereas Miki had the privilege of solitude – with his tutor, of course. Kozue saw red for a split second, hands clenching into fists, and calmed herself with the memory of shoving that odious creature down the stairs. It had made the oddest series of sounds, brass ringing a discordant tune with the accent of elbows and knees striking marble, the final dull thud of his head against the last step. The silence that followed after was intoxicating, ruined when she saw his chest rise in a labored breath, but as it was, she hadn’t quite planned to kill him.

Relaxing her hands, Kozue drew the fall of the piano upward, exposing its keys. Here there wasn’t a single particle of dust, every part of the instrument well-kept under Miki’s hands. Some people thought he was too particular, but they were brutes, unaware of how much effort such kind and delicate work took, much less on top of his studies and that odd council the school had drafted him into. She sucked in a breath between her teeth and began to play, fumbling the first few notes before her fingers found the right keys, imitating the beginning of The Sunlit Garden. Mimicry was second nature, but Miki’s playing was honed by relentless practice, ringing high and clear where hers bled together in messy strokes over the ivory.

But it would be close enough to anyone’s ear, from a distance.

The scrape of rubber over stone was her first warning. Kozue smiled to herself, restarting the song without hesitation, and waited for the door to open. When it did, revealing Miki’s tutor, triumph blossomed in her breast. His face was a mosaic of sickly green and yellow, one eye still black and bloodshot, and he was clearly struggling with the crutches under each arm. No less than was deserved, yet a small fraction of her wrath expressed.

“Miki, it is very–” A knot seized his throat, visible when he swallowed. “You, girl. Where’s your brother?”

A smile stretched her lips, bared the sharp line of her teeth. “Called away. You told him there was an engagement you simply couldn’t miss.”

“I did not!” The tutor’s indignation shrunk into fear a second after, rounding his eyes. “You were the one who called me last night.”

“And yet you still arrived for this session.” Her fingers paused over the keys, thumb lingering on a single low note. “One broken leg is awful enough, don’t you think?”

He lurched forward, anger twisting his face. “You–”

“Next time it will be your neck.” Kozue snapped, venom infusing every word. “Tonight you’ll call him, and that will be the last occasion you two ever speak. You will apologize and say the accident changed you, that you’re just not good enough to teach him anymore. If you do anything else or you  _touch him again_ , I won’t leave enough of you behind for a funeral.”

Blood waned from the man’s face, leaving sallow flesh under his bruises. “He asked for my help.”

“Yes, your lessons were very personal.” She hissed. “Have I made myself unclear?”

After a pained shake of his head, Kozue watched him turn around, using a hurried limp to carry himself out of the piano room. She fumed a moment longer, reveling in the slow burn of rage through her veins before the feeling settled, warm in the hollow of her chest. Carefully covering the keys once more, Kozue strode out to the hall like nothing had happened at all, only to walk face-first into someone. Before she could curse for them to get out of the way, a deep voice directed her attention upward, to eyes the color of tossed jade.

“Ms. Kaoru, where are you going in such a hurry?” The chairman’s smile was broad, showing a deep amusement that she didn’t quite understand.

“Nowhere.” The lie left her lips in an instant before Kozue blinked. “Back to my dorm, I mean.”

“Following your teacher’s lessons, I would say.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, the touch warm enough to sear through her shirt. “ _Observe this man who ignores the fruits of his evil deeds._ ”

While he was handsome, the comment wasn’t any less annoying for it. “What are you talking about?”

“Your lecture in English earlier. I was listening outside the door, I confess.” A fluid shrug followed the words, and a shiver went up Kozue’s spine at the movement. “Do you remember the end of it?”

Part of her had been listening, she supposed, and Kozue combed back through her memories to pluck out a few words. “ _Observe this man who calculates on staying here forever. He will surely be ensnared by death._ ”

“Now, isn’t that a message?” The chairman laughed and relented, letting go of her. “If you want to know more about it, you should speak to Mikage at the Nemuro Memorial Hall. You might find some wisdom there.”

She nodded, not knowing how else to respond. Whatever heat was there before had been replaced by a creeping unease, coiling in her gut and squeezing too tight. Kozue started to walk forward before she could think better of it, praying he wouldn’t follow, and headed for the rose garden, the beautiful cage that surrounded them.

For some reason, it seemed like just the thing to do.

–

The references from the lecture are taken from a poem entitled  _The Buddha’s Law Among the Birds_ , written by an unknown lama.


End file.
